


Like Real People Do

by bluejoseph



Series: Hozier is nice [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Claustrophobia, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hozier, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Nightmares, Reanimation, Rebel red carnations ooooh grow while I decay, Zombies, like real people do, lying, memory problems, mild body horror, songfic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 16:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejoseph/pseuds/bluejoseph
Summary: I had a thought, dear, however scary,About that night, the bugs and the dirt.Why were you digging? What did you buryBefore those hands pulled me from the earth?





	Like Real People Do

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Hozier song of the same name. Please, give it a listen; it obviously fits very well with the story and it's a sweet song besides.

Carnations. Josh remembers carnations.

Red ones, specifically. A whole bundle of them, in someone's hands, but he doesn't know who the hands belong to. Are they his? His love's?

Josh has a love, he remembers that more than anything else. His name is Tyler.

Where Josh was before has addled his memory, twisted his thoughts like strands of spiderwebs, and made them just as fragile. Most of his memory is spotty. He remembers Tyler best. Tyler saved him.

Saved him from what, he can't remember. But there was something. Josh was trapped somewhere. There was a lot of dirt—in his hair, on his skin, coating Tyler's hands.

Josh has never forgotten Tyler, not for a second. Tyler is simple; no, natural. He's naturally beautiful in everything he does. The way he moves is like a river curving through a gorge, his face is the weathered edge of a cliff. His smile, rare as it is, is a ring of mushrooms hidden in a grassy, untouched corner of the woods. Josh loves him. It's the first thing he knows.

Sometimes, when he can't remember much, he goes over what he knows in the hopes that it will bring back some memories. 

His name is Josh. He loves Tyler. He can't remember where he came from. He lives with Tyler in their apartment. 

One such moment of confusion comes one night when they're making dinner together. Tyler is chopping vegetables for stir fry while Josh cooks the meat on the stove. It's easy, Josh is good at easy tasks like this. They always eat at home, at least, Josh does. He doesn't leave the apartment. Tyler says it's not safe and Josh trusts him.

It's at this time, looking down at the mostly raw meat in the pan, that Josh remembers the carnations. They're the same brilliant red as the steak, but the two things are very different. Try as he does, Josh can't remember where the carnations are from in his memory. 

The dirt. They're connected to the dirt.

“Tyler?” he asks. He hates to bother his love with questions about his memory. He always promises it's fine when Josh asks, but his eyes always darken with worry, and he smiles. Tyler usually doesn't smile when he's happy; he expresses his feelings in other ways.

The other man looks up from his vegetables. He must see the confusion in Josh's face, because he sets down the knife to give him his full attention. “Yes?”

“I remember flowers.” Josh wills the memory to come back, as hard as he can, but it does nothing. “Carnations. They were red.”

Tyler doesn't flinch, but he pastes on one of those smiles that lets Josh know something's wrong. “Do you remember anything else?”

Slowly, Josh shakes his head. “No.”

Tyler's eyes move to the ground for a moment, then back up. “Hey.” He takes Josh's hands, offers that fake smile again to put him at ease. “It's okay. I brought them for you.” He swallows carefully. “Not too long before.”

"But what was before?" Josh wants to ask. He doesn't ask this. He smiles a little, instead, when Tyler kisses his knuckles.

“I love you,” he tells him, which is true. 

Tyler's smile disappears, and he pecks his cheek; it's genuine. Josh is relieved. “I love you, too.”

*

Josh wakes that night from a nightmare. In the dream, he's trapped somewhere dark, unable to see anything that could indicate where he is or if there's a way out. He can hear a scraping sound, like claws—no, softer. Like hands, human hands, scratching and pulling at something. Josh's lungs are struggling to inhale and exhale but as much as he tries, there's no oxygen. There's no above or under or around, there's only here and he can't get out. He can't get out.

He's trembling when he finally wakes. He can't see anything still and it frightens him. He turns on the light on the nightstand.

The soft golden light fills the room, and Josh is relieved. He's not trapped, he's safe in bed. The clock tells him that it's just past one in the morning.

Tyler stirs slightly at his side. Embarrassed, Josh quickly shuts off the light, but it's too late; Tyler is already reaching his arms out to gently envelop Josh, and pull him to his chest. Josh scoots closer, letting his love cradle him. It's soothing.

“I'm sorry,” Josh whispers once they're situated. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“It's alright,” Tyler says lowly. His voice is slightly raspy from sleep. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Josh feels like a child again. He nods his head. He's been having nightmares for the past few weeks—which, coincidentally, is as far back as he can remember. Each time, he dreams about being trapped in a small space, unable to get free, unable to breathe. It's extremely claustrophobic. Josh didn't think he had claustrophobia before.

The scratching sound was new, though. Before, he'd always dreamed of being alone, but the scratching must indicate another presence. Something's trying to get him...

He curls up tighter at the thought, feels Tyler's warm hand softly rub circles into his back. 

Digging. It's digging.

He's underground.

*

“Why did you bring me the carnations?”

Tyler glances up from the televison. It's Saturday so he doesn't have to work. Josh doesn't have a job; he's not sure he did before or not. He's not sure about many things.

“Pardon?”

“The carnations.” Josh struggles. “The other night, I said I remembered them, and you said you brought me some before.”

His love is quiet for a moment before replying. “I brought them because I loved you.”

Josh says nothing, just leans his head on Tyler's shoulder, smiles a little when Tyler links their fingers together. Still, he can't shake the feeling that there's something about the carnations that his love isn't telling him, something important.

*

Someone comes to their apartment the next day. Josh doesn't know who it is, because Tyler makes him hide in the bathroom with the door closed. When he asks him why, Tyler just grabs his hand, tightly, squeezes it until Josh's knuckles turn white. 

Tyler's not an aggressive person, but he can appear so when upset. “Please, just trust me,” he pleads in a soft tone, and so Josh does.

The guest comes in once Josh has hidden away. The door is closed, but with his ear pressed to it, Josh can hear a little. Tyler lets the stranger in and they speak quietly in the kitchen, though Josh can't hear what about.

After about ten minutes, Josh carefully opens the door, just a crack. He wants to open it more, go out and confront Tyler as well as the stranger, but, no—his love asked him to trust him. Josh trusts him, he swears he does.

He just doesn't understand what's going on. He hasn't for weeks. He's allowed to be curious.

“I'm glad you're back at work,” the stranger is saying. Peeking through the crack in the door, Josh can see him. He has a head of thick, dark hair, and a serious complexion that doesn't seem to fit him. Everything about this man, in fact, proclaims the fact that he is rather solemn. What about, Josh doesn't know.

Tyler says nothing, just stares down at the mug of coffee in front of him. The stranger reaches a hand across the table, places it on Tyler's arm. Josh should be feeling jealous, but he gets the feeling that the stranger can be trusted.

He knows him.

“I know it's hard.” The man sighs, rubs at his face with his other hand. His eyes are red. “Fuck, I know. This shouldn't have happened. It's so fucked up.”

Tyler turns his head towards the bathroom. Josh almost flinches, but stays steady; Tyler knows he's watching. “You have no idea.”

*

Tyler leaves the apartment every morning at eight to go to work. Since Josh doesn't have a job, he usually sleeps in late before making himself some brunch and watching whatever's on TV. Around two, he picks up the phone when Tyler calls; he takes his break then. Once his love goes back to work, he eats a snack, does a few chores around the house, and starts dinner so it'll be ready once Tyler gets home.

Tonight, Tyler is late. He always calls if he's going to be late.

“I'm going to be late,” he says at two o'clock. They always talk while Tyler's on break rather than text; Josh likes to hear his voice. “We're pretty low on groceries, so I'm going to pick some stuff up on the way home. Is there anything you need?”

“Hold on.” Josh looks in the fridge, checks the list on the door to see if there's anything missing. “No, don't think so.”

“Can you text me the list? I forgot to copy it before work.”

“Yeah, sure.” Josh sits down in the living room again and glances to the televison. He was watching the history channel, but the show that's on now doesn't have much, if anything, to do with history.

“I've gotta go, okay? I'll see you when I get home.” Tyler's voice goes soft. “I love you.”

“Hey.” Josh smiles up at the plaster ceiling. “I love you, too.”

Tyler hangs up. Josh watches the history channel for a few more minutes before going into the kitchen and texting his love a picture of the list.

He frowns at his thumb as he hits 'send'. The skin at the tip of his thumb is peeling. He picks at it with his fingernails, and pulls off a piece the size of a dime. 

The flesh beneath is soft and red and even though it's not bleeding, and Josh is afraid. He goes into the bathroom and puts a bandage on it to be safe. It still doesn't hurt, though, so it must be fine.

It's fine.

*

Josh makes enchiladas for dinner. Mexican food is his—and Tyler's—favorite, and he hasn't had much of an appetite lately at all. He thinks it might tempt him, but even as the smell of the food wafts from the oven, his stomach doesn't so much as grumble its approval.

He's been left alone too long. This is a thing with him. If he's by himself for too long, he starts to overthink and that only leads to worrying which only leads to distress. It's like water building up at the wall of a dam, struggling to push past the concrete borders but unable to do it. He worries about all the strange things that have been happening lately, the anomalies, and he lists them in his head as he paces back and forth in the kitchen.

He can't remember anything up to a few weeks ago. He peeled of a hunk of his own skin and didn't feel a thing. He hasn't been hungry in so long that he's almost forgotten what it feels like.

Is he sick? Is he dying? What the hell is going on? What's wrong with him?

It's then that Josh hears the front door unlock. Tyler comes in, still dressed for work, grocery bags in his hands as he kicks the door closed again with his foot. “Hey, J. I'm home. Did you have a good--”

The dam cracks. Josh rushes to him and kisses him so Tyler won't talk, and so he won't think.

Tyler seems surprised at the sudden show of affection, but doesn't question it. He kisses back, tentative at first, then sweeter, warmer. He releases the grocery bags, letting them fall to the floor as he wraps his arms around Josh like a tournequet. 

Josh banishes his worries to the back of his head as Tyler turns the kiss heated, curls his fingers into Josh's short hair. His love is here. Everything is okay.

He separates his mouth from Tyler's, brown eyes meeting brown eyes, intense in different ways. 

“Tell me what happened before,” Josh whispers.

The dam breaks.

*

Tyler has said nothing since Josh asked him to explain. He's sitting at the dining room table while Josh gets dinner out of the oven. He's sure his love will tell him, he's sure. He's just tired, from work and shopping. It can't be that bad.

He offers Tyler a faint smile as he carries the food over to the table. 'I love you,' his smile says, and it's true. Whatever's happened, he knows that.

Tyler stares up at him, tears pooling in his eyes, hand suddenly clutching the front of his jacket.

“You were dead,” Tyler chokes out. Josh drops the enchiladas.

The plate shatters on the floor; Josh doesn't care. “What?”

“I brought you back!” Tyler stands quickly, shoes crunching the glass under his feet. “You're okay now. We just have to stay low. Everything will be okay if we stay low.”

Ordinarily, Josh would think this was a prank, but Tyler looks so serious. He's crying. “Tell me. Please.”

Tyler sits down again, hands folded in his lap. His knuckles are white. “It was late. I went shopping after work, to pick up stuff for dinner...and you were home.” He swallows. He won't meet Josh's eyes. “I was so tired, and I just...I didn't see you. You were at the end of the driveway. You were waiting for me to come home.”

It dawns on Josh what Tyler has done. “You hit me.”

Tyler nods rapidly, tears overflowing down his cheeks. “I hit you. But I brought you back!” He stands up again, takes a step towards his love. Josh flinches back. “I felt so guilty, Josh, God. Everyone said it wasn't my fault, but I needed to hear it from you. I needed you.” He reaches an arm out, but Josh steps away. “I went to the cemetery every day and I brought you carnations, but it wasn't enough. I had to see you again.”

“So you dug me up.”

“I dug you up.” Tyler swallows. “I dug you up with my bare hands. And you were alive.”

“I'm not,” Josh whimpers.

“You have to be.”

Josh shakes his head rapidly. God, he should have known. But how could he? Tyler lied to him. He said everything was okay. He should have told him.

“Josh, please,” Tyler begs, but Josh is already long gone.

Before, he remembers now, he was a runner. He'd participate in 5ks, runs for charity, and traditional old jogging around the park. Sometimes, he'd coax Tyler into joining him. 

Tonight, Josh runs alone. Down the stairs of their apartment building, right into the lobby. The guy at the desk recoils at the sight of the Josh, only confirming what Tyler has told him. Josh's skin is falling off, it's rotting, and he didn't even know it was wrong. He didn't know.

He has to get away from his stares, from Tyler. Tears gather in his eyes like twigs in a nest as he bursts out the door, rushing blindly out into the dark. 

“Josh!” Tyler is calling from the distance, but Josh doesn't know where he is. He never hears the car coming, never feels the impact nor the tires crushing his body. 

He's been dead once before. It must be instant, because he never hears Tyler scream, desperately grabbing at Josh's body. He never sees the frantic, guilt-stricken apologies of the driver, the confusion at Josh's already decaying state. He never feels Tyler's hands on his face, clutching at him, refusing to let him go even after the paramedics arrive. It's a hopeless cause.

Being dead is a lot like sleeping. You close your eyes, and you feel nothing. Maybe you dream a little here and there, but it's mostly silence. Rest. Being dead isn't so bad, Josh thinks.

Maybe this time, Tyler will let him stay that way.

**Author's Note:**

> I could not ask you where you came from.  
> I could not ask you, neither could you.  
> Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips.  
> We could just kiss, like real people do.


End file.
